The Joy of Sex or You're Doing it Wrong
by Mindy35
Summary: Jack/Liz, Liz/Drew. Liz goes to Jack for advice on a delicate subject.


Title: The Joy of Sex (or You're Doing it Wrong)

Author: Mindy

Rating: T sexual concepts.

Disclaimer: Characters are the property Tina Fey et al. 'The Joy of Sex' is copyright it's authors, and is alluded to without permission.

Pairing: Jack/Liz

Spoilers: "The Bubble".

Summary: Liz goes to Jack for advice on a delicate subject.

-x-x-x-

She hesitates before leaving his office. "I need some advice."

"Yes?"

Liz hesitates again, longer this time, before she adds: "Sex advice."

Jack stops what he's doing. Looks up, rises to his feet. Then gestures to the couch with something like tentative expectation. "Ah…You'd better sit down."

Liz watches Jack try not to appear too eager as he walks to the door and locks it. She shakes her head: "Augh. You've just been waiting for this day, haven't you?"

Jack takes a deep breath and faces her. "It hardly comes as a surprise to me that you need help, Lemon. He gestures again to the couch: "Only that you dared to ask. Please, sit."

She frowns as she plops down into one corner and admits: "Well, I almost didn't."

"I'm glad you did," Jack replies, taking a seat in the opposite corner and looking as confident and composed as ever. "I have so much to impart," he goes on, unable to hide a little of his anticipation: "And this is the one area of your life we haven't seriously addressed. We've got your finances in order now, adoption plans more or less in place. We've fixed your hair, your teeth, got a new prescription for those glasses. I've even got you wearing heels and dresses on a fairly regular basis. And after that trip to Bergdorff's I am assured by the best ladies in the business that you are now wearing the correct bra size."

"Yeah, that was a _weird day_," she mumbles, grimacing slightly: "I'm still not sure I'm comfortable with you knowing my cup size."

"It's hardly information I intend to spread about," Jack replies with a wave of his hand.

"Even so." She shakes her head, grimace deepening: "Picking up the tab on my…ladies undergarments? That's a little…familiar. I feel like I should be telling you which ones I'm wearing, when."

He smiles genially. "That's not necessary, I assure you. I'm pleased to know they are going to good use though. Now--" He raises his eyebrows at her, lowers his voice pointedly: "your little problem?…Why don't you tell me what's going on? Or rather, what's _not_ going on?"

Liz lets out a breath, rolls her head on her neck. "Oh God. Why am I doing this...?"

"Because everyone wants and deserves a decent sex life," Jack answers evenly: "Even the bespectacled members of our community. And just because yours has been less than stellar up until this point, does not mean it needs to continue being so."

"Exactly," she says, the frustration in her voice rising: "See, I thought, this time, with Drew, it would be different. Because, the thing is -- I am _actually_ attracted to him. Like," she pauses, tries not to blush: "_really_ attracted."

Jack bobs his head. "A good place to start."

She shrugs, going on haltingly: "I wasn't that much with…Dennis, Conan, the list goes on -- although not that far. I liked them, you know. But…there was no, um…"

"Heat?" he guesses.

She blinks. "Yeah."

"Chemistry?"

"Right. That."

Jack clears his throat, shifts in place. "But there is with Drew?"

She shrugs again, the beginnings of a smile curving her lips. "There's definitely…_something_."

He suppresses a smile of his own, keeping his voice even: "Please, go on."

She does, her hands gesturing as if to impel her words: "Well. He's got the hair and the eyes and the dorky glasses all going on. But…that can only do so much. You know what I'm saying? I mean…you should see this man's chest -- not literally, obviously, because that would be weird. But he does have a really nice…well, everything, actually. But still. It only gets me so far…D'you know?"

"I understand completely," he replies with a nod. "Aside from simple looks, there needs to be…flair, technique, originality, sensuality. When I am with a woman--"

"Egh, no--" She retracts in her seat.

"What's the problem?" he asks, blinking.

She shakes her head tightly. "Can't…do…that."

"Do what?"

"Talk about…that. With you."

For a moment, she looks like she's going to cut off their discussion, get up and leave. Never to broach the subject again. For a moment, he fears she will. But Jack waves a hand, swiftly changes directions.

"Look, Lemon, this may all be a simple case of miscommunication. If Drew is not getting you to…" he pauses to tread carefully: "where you need to be, you simply need to tell him that, with as much tact as you possibly can."

"Jack…" She slumps against the arm of the couch, looking pained: "Can you really imagine me having that conversation?"

"Hm, well," he muses, after a moment's thought: "the other, less direct approach would be to offer the man some direction."

She looks confused. "Direction?"

"Some simple suggestions. Veiled in seduction, of course, as to what would please you. Whatever it is you require to reach your peak."

"Right," she mutters: "Like it's that easy."

"There is no reason for you to suffer in silence," he tells her.

"I didn't mean that." She shakes her head vaguely, her voice tapering off: "I didn't mean…"

"What did you mean?"

"_I mean_," she says, rolling her eyes: "there's no little magic button, you know, to make a woman…"

"Actually, there is," Jack states: "You may have heard of it, it's called the--"

Her mouth drops open. "Don't SAY it! Jeez, Jack! Could you not?!"

"Sorry."

"This is awkward enough without using…_words_."

"So you are _aware_ of its existence then?" he asks, unperturbed by her discomfiture.

"The magic button?" she replies, deadpan: "Yeah, Jack, I am."

He gives a slight shrug. "I can never be entirely sure with you, Lemon."

She humphs, then mumbles: "I'm not sure Drew knows about it."

Jack looks highly incredulous. "Isn't this man a doctor?"

"Not a very good one."

"Evidently." He wags his head back and forth: "I'm not sure he deserves to be treating anyone, let alone touching a woman. Especially one such as you."

She makes a face at him. "One such as me? What's that supposed to mean?"

His eyes drift over her appraisingly. "Frankly, Lemon, your bizarre lack of experience and prudish nature give you an air of…alluring innocence."

"Gross," she comments.

"It's hardly that, I can assure you. At least, not from the male perspective."

"Double gross."

"In my opinion," he continues, voice smooth and assured: "what a woman such as yourself requires is a confident lover, a seasoned lover. Someone to draw you out, someone to seduce you, someone to explore you."

"Explore--?"

"Discover what you like. Since it's flagrantly clear you have very little clue yourself what, er…floats your boat."

She frowns, but asks: "What's that got to do with anything?"

Jack can't help laughing a little. "Lemon, men aren't mind-readers. Nor are they all as accomplished at the art of seduction as--"

"Your point being?" she cuts him off, wincing.

Jack looks her squarely in the eye. "How on earth do you expect Drew to know -- or how do you expect to _let him know_ -- what you like in bed if you haven't figured it out yet for yourself?"

She lets out a sigh, lifting her shoulders in bewilderment. "So…how do I fix this then? For once, I actually want to have sex with someone, why does it have to be someone more clueless than me?"

"If you were any other woman, I would suggest a little…" Jack waves some fingers in the air: "self-exploration. Some quality alone time with yourself."

She scrunches her nose. "Yeah. I'm not that woman."

"I suspected as much."

"Moving right along then."

"Nevertheless," Jack continues, tipping up his chin: "I think you are going to have to step up, Lemon."

She nods hesitantly. "Okay."

"Be a woman."

"Right."

"Tell him what gets your motor running."

"Don't talk about my motor like that."

"I'm endeavouring to talk in metaphor to put you more at ease." He smooths a hand down his tie as he adds: "And remember, you did ask for my help."

"I know," she huffs forlornly: "But we've already established I don't know that stuff. What…works for me."

"Well, as much as I would like to," he muses, mouth lifting in one corner: "I'm afraid I can't help you out there. That is something that, in my experience, is specific to each woman. I would, however, suggest," he stretches out a hand, gesturing in broad circles at her chest region: "starting with this area."

Liz looks down. "Oh."

"Is there a problem?" he asks after a pause.

She looks up. "I don't think Drew is a boob guy."

Another pause. "You're…kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not." She gives a dispassionate shrug: "He barely pays attention to-- I mean, I usually keep my bra on the whole time. One of the ones you bought me actually--" her face lights up momentarily, then falls just as suddenly: "which is something I should not have said. Let's ignore that I did."

He smirks slightly. "Alright. I'm far more concerned by what you said initially. Are you honestly telling me that you keep your bra on," he pauses to emphasise each word: "_The Whole Time_?"

"It doesn't take long," she admits: "which is part of the problem – so I don't see the point in getting totally undressed."

"Has this man ever seen you properly?" he asks, eyes wide.

"Oh, sure," she nods, then looks down at herself again: "but…I dunno, maybe he doesn't think the ladies are that impressive."

Jack immediately shakes his head. "Breasts are breasts, Lemon. Big, small, perky, hefty -- they're all beautiful. And the fascination of men the world over. Even the gay ones. What's more," he adds, gaze drifting a little lower: "I can assure you, without any doubt or hesitation whatsoever, that what you've got is…more than adequate."

She can't seem to decide whether to frown or to smile at this, so she does both at the same time. A rare talent which only she seems to possess. "How can you tell?" she says eventually.

"Believe me," he rasps: "I can tell."

She cocks her head. "Without even--?"

He bobs his. "Certainly."

A pause.

"Wow. That's…a gift."

He smiles: "I know." It swiftly changes into a disapproving grimace though: "This man of yours though, is simply undeserving. He is squandering your riches."

"My riches?" she smiles, quirking a brow.

"You like that metaphor?"

"Sort of."

"This man," he continues resolutely: "and I hesitate to even call him such -- he's just lazy."

"Why?" she asks, blinking at him: "What's he s'posed to do to them?" She glances down at her chest then back at him: "What? Is that a dumb question?"

Jack runs a hand over his face. "Good Lord. It's like the undersexed blind leading the uninformed blind."

"I told you, Jack," she sighs, leaning forward imploringly: "I need help."

"Haven't you ever heard of foreplay, Lemon?" he asks suddenly.

Her eyes wander, expression blank. "That's like…taking off my pants, right?" She makes a face. "Taking their pants off?…Brushing my teeth?" Silence. Before she tries one last time: "…Uno?"

Jack is speechless, staring at her in disbelief. "This is even worse than I thought." He gets up from the couch and when he comes back from the bookshelf, he holds out a worn, yellowed book. "Here. I want you to read this. Consider it an extension of your education."

Liz stares at it but doesn't take it: "You actually _own_ this book? I don't know anyone who owns this book!"

"I guarantee that isn't true. I've had this copy since puberty. I stole it from the local library."

"Huh…" She looks up at him, eyes twinkling: "And you keep it in your office?"

"It holds sentimental value to me."

"Sure it does."

"Take it."

She hesitates, looks at him askance. "That door is locked, right?"

"Yes," he nods: "No one here but us. No danger of us being interrupted."

She accepts the book warily, eyes still on his face. "So then, it's totally safe for us to look at your old sex book together?"

"This is for your own good," he assures her and takes a seat, this time, next to her. "Trust me, Lemon."

She opens it curiously, but more like she's going to find endless hilarious jokes within, than like the sensual manual it is. She snorts: "What '_joy_'…?" then as she flicks through it, mutters: "Why's this page dog-eared?"

Jack clears his throat. "An old favourite."

"Oh..." She turns the book sideways, tips her head, examining the figures on the page with a creased brow: "How do you…?" Something seems to dawn on her unexpectedly and she drops it back to her lap: "Never mind…"

Jack leans back against the couch, slinging an arm over the back as Liz continues to browse the delicately drawn images with a mixture of inquisitive innocence and baffled aversion. "You see, Lemon, sex is more than going through the motions and fulfilling carnal needs. When done correctly, sex with another person can be a wondrous experience. The most important thing is to stay connected. Look into your partner's eyes."

She looks over at him then, brown eyes inscrutable under their droopy lashes.

"See their nakedness, their trust," he goes on in a low voice: "Read the signals they're giving you. Witness the intensity there, the desire, the need, but resist gratifying it for as long as possible." He pauses, the silence between them heady and intense. "Do you understand what I'm talking about?"

"I don't know." Liz looks away, worries her lip between her teeth before admitting ruefully: "Theoretically, yeah. I realize that's…what it's meant to be like. It's not…ever been like that for me though. Ever." She laughs unconvincingly: "And it's definitely not like that with Drew."

"How is it?" he asks directly, but carefully.

"Not good."

"How not good?"

She groans under her breath, slumps back against the couch. "You know those…jackhammers you see at road work sites…?"

"Yes."

Her eyes screw shut. "Let's just say…I'm like the pavement."

Jack is silent a long time. He feels like a gesture of comfort or understanding is required. But they are so rarely intimate with one another in a physical sense that he's not sure whether one would be welcome. The content of their conversation is intimate enough -- surprisingly so. They are rarely so honest with one another as well. Liz is probably feeling sufficiently exposed that touching her right now, however innocent, might simply heighten the unease and shame that he sees pervading her body. At the same time, part of him wishes to convince her, as a man who cares about her, that there is an alternative to what she's just described.

Jack lifts his hand from the back of the couch and rubs her shoulder. "Liz…" he says gently: "I think you need to remind this pitiful excuse of a male that what he is dealing with here is a very precious, very delicate piece of equipment."

She smiles slightly, head bowed.

He leans a little closer, hoping to coax her smile further. "You are not just an old car where he can stick the key in the ignition and go."

Her hands cover her face briefly. "Alright, I think we've used enough weird metaphors now."

"I agree." But he adds insistently: "You need to know that you, and your body, deserve better than this."

"Yeah," she sighs but doesn't seem too sure.

He studies her a moment before asking: "Are you certain you want to continue sleeping with this person?"

"No. I don't know…" She shrugs and casts a sideways look at him: "I do _like_ him. I'd like to try and make it work. If I can."

"Well," he answers, his voice quiet and metered: "if you decide to – and I'm not sure he deserves another chance, or that it would be beneficial to you, considering your already shaky perception of intimate relations -- then my only advice would be to urge him to take things slowly."

She bobs her head. "Take it slow. Yeah."

"Because if there is one thing about you I have learnt," he adds, unable or unwilling to disguise the tenderness in his tone: "it's that you may take awhile to warm up. But when you do, Lemon, when you do…" He smiles at her, hopes she understands the rest of what he can't quite express.

She smiles back, meets his eyes and seems to get it. "Thanks, Jack." She looks down at the book still open on her lap, the page showing a couple entwined, the man's mouth on the woman's breast, her hands pressed hungry into her lover's abdomen. Slowly, she closes the book and hands it back to him.

"No-no," he urges: "Keep it. I absolutely insist."

She shakes her head, her smile turning dubious. "I…can't own this book."

"Well, borrow it," he murmurs: "Give it back whenever you like."

She opens her mouth a few times, looking uncomfortable. Then, uncertainly: "Okay..." She rises, pulls her hoodie up off her body, then wraps the book up inside it. "Um, thanks again."

Jack smiles as he watches her, rising also. "Anytime, Lemon, anytime."

"And hey," she jokes as she heads for the door: "if I can ever return the favour…"

"Next time I need sex advice, I'll know who to go to," he says, his voice returning to its usual decisive timbre.

"Yeah--" she quips: "Tracy."

He leans in to unlock and hold the door for her, adding with a small smile: "Good luck, Lemon. Give him hell. And, ah--" He touches her shoulder lightly as she turns to go: "Take a little bit of heaven for yourself. You deserve it."

She smiles lopsidedly, his sex book hugged tight to her chest, concealed in her sweater: "Oh, by the way--" she tells him as if it's an after-thought: "if I get caught with this I'm totally telling the writers it's yours and you made me take it. You know, as a joke."

"Of course. I assumed," he chuckles as he watches her walk away.

-x-

Two days later, Dr Drew Baird receives an anonymous package at his office. It has no return address and his secretary does not even remember it arriving with the rest of his mail.

When he opens it, he laughs. He assumes it's a practical joke on behalf of one of his colleagues in the medical profession. Doctors are big practical jokers -- and no one is a bigger joke in their field than Dr Leo Spaceman. He's a bad joke, at that. A quack, a loon. So Drew shakes his head and chuckles loudly as he unwraps the book with Spaceman's name on the cover.

After all, who could possibly believe that he'd need a book entitled: "_You're Doing It Wrong!_"?

_END._


End file.
